Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart #1) (15 page)

Maureen hesitated. What
did
she want to know? “I’m not sure,” she said with a shrug. “Last week when we went to Seattle, Alan stopped at the Simmons ranch. While he was inside talking to Bud, I met Tommy. He seemed …”

“Shy?” Rita answered for her.

“More than shy.”

Rita sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. I don’t really know the boys very well myself. Their mother left when they were young. And Bud … well, I guess you’ve heard enough about Bud.”

Maureen nodded, wanting to ask more about Simmons and the way he treated his sons, but she was unsure if even Rita would tell her the truth. She considered telling her about Tommy’s deer and how he kept it a secret, and then decided against that, too. She’d promised him she wouldn’t tell anyone. Instead, she thought of Alan and how stubbornly he refused to cut Joey any slack. “Why is Alan so hard on Joey?”

“He’s not any harder on Joey than anyone else. It’s just that he believes so strongly in the law.”

“But he’s so adamant about it. Surely the things Joey’s doing are minor.”

Rita smiled sadly. “Has Alan told you how his father died?”

Maureen shook her head. “What does that have to do with how he treats Joey?”

“Everything.” Rita paused, as if considering what to say next. “It was an accident. A stupid accident.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Rita glanced at her and nodded. “Probably. But this accident was particularly unnecessary.” She paused again and took a deep breath. “Will Morris was drunk and beating on his wife, Celia. It wasn’t the first time. One of the neighbors had called in and complained. Usually, a deputy would have handled it, but that night Mel, Alan’s father, decided to go over there. He was determined to get Celia to press charges. Instead, he died.”

Maureen could see that the memory hurt. The pain in Rita’s eyes was sharp, bitter.

“It seems Will’s sixteen-year-old son had had enough of his father beating up his mother. The bullet went wild, hitting Mel just as he forced his way into the house.”

Maureen groaned, feeling the senselessness of such a death, knowing how it must have affected Alan.

Rita nodded. “Alan has never been able to get past the fact that Will’s son was taking things into his own hands.”

“But surely he doesn’t blame that boy.”

“That boy killed Alan’s father.” Rita looked at her hard. “It should never have happened.”

“Yes, but …” Maureen let her voice trail off, her understanding of Alan’s pain conflicting with empathy for the boy who’d tried to help his mother. And there was Joey Simmons, supporting his family any way he could. Were they wrong? And if she believed that they were wrong, what about herself and what she’d done to protect Katie?

No, she decided, she’d done the right thing.

She could feel for Alan’s loss. Maybe even understand a little better why he saw things the way he did. But she’d done what she had to. Just like those two teenage boys.

The tragedy of both situations bothered her. Couldn’t something be done before Joey and Tommy’s predicament turned into something more serious? Shouldn’t someone be trying to prevent a repeat of the disaster that had taken the life of Alan’s father? If someone took the time to intervene with Bud Simmons and his boys, maybe tragedy would be avoided. With that in mind, she decided to go out and see Tommy again. She’d check on his deer. Maybe if she could get closer to him, she could help.

When Katie woke from her nap, they spent the rest of the afternoon strolling amid the booths, repeating the child’s favorite activities.

As the daylight dimmed, they found a spot beneath a gigantic oak tree within sight of the bandstand. Maureen spread the blanket again, and dropped their accumulation of purchases and prizes on one corner. Rita lowered herself with a sigh, resting against the bark of the old tree. Katie immediately crawled into her lap, and Rita slid loving arms around the child. Maureen sat cross-legged next to them, a sense of peace and wistfulness stealing over her.

All around them, the townsfolk began settling. Some carried baskets of food, others sleepy children. For a while, the evening grew quieter, with only the sounds of friends and families talking in hushed tones or laughing softly among themselves. Even the children, those still awake, seemed subdued.

The air cooled. In the woods across the field, the first fireflies of the evening flickered. Birds chattered overhead, saying farewell to the daylight before quieting for the night.

Maureen stretched her legs, tucking her skirt around her knees. Leaning back on her elbows, she felt the warmth of the soil and the springy grass beneath the blanket. The sun dipped lower, and the streetlights along Main Street blinked on. She fought the urge to close her eyes, not wanting to miss one second of this evening.

“Are you hungry, dear?” asked Rita quietly.

Maureen lifted her gaze to Rita, who rested her head against the tree, her eyes closed. Katie, too, hovered close to sleep, her head nestled against Rita’s chest. Only the slight movement of her baby fingers against Rita’s arms indicated she held on to wakefulness.

“I couldn’t eat another thing,” she answered.

Rita sighed. “Me, neither.”

Silence slid easily between them, the evening sounds turning softly into those of night.

“What about Katie?” Rita asked a few minutes later without opening her eyes. “Should we feed her?”

Maureen saw that the tiny fingers had stilled. “She’s sound asleep. You could probably lay her down, if you want.”

“In a minute.”

Maureen smiled, understanding the sweet sensation of holding a sleeping child against your breast. Rita would hold Katie for some time yet.

She let her attention drift back to her surroundings, back to the bandstand, where preparations for the evening’s entertainment had begun. The scene seemed somewhat unreal—not unlike the rest of the day. Six men, dressed in white slacks, red candy-striped shirts, navy blue bow ties, and white straw hats, set up sound equipment. She even recognized most of them. There was Abe Bollow, who owned and ran the grocery at the end of Main Street. Doc Readon, Wyattville’s sole claim to the medical profession. Ned Balwin, one of Alan’s deputies. And Percy, who ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the diner, and then spent the rest of the day reading newspapers outside the grocery.

Never had she imagined that places such as Wyattville existed. These people, this town, the day’s events, none of it should be real. She found herself wishing she was truly part of it all, that she belonged here.

Then she felt Alan next to her. It was as if the air suddenly turned warmer around her. Lifting her eyes, she followed the long line of him until she met his gaze. Smiling, she shifted slightly, giving him room to sit next to her. He dropped a small bundle onto her lap and sat down beside her.

“What is it?” she asked, picking up the package wrapped in plain brown paper.

“A peace offering.”

“Hah!” Maureen stole a sideways glance at him while removing the cord that held the package together. “A bribe, you mean.”

Alan shrugged and smiled. “Just open it.”

Within minutes, Maureen had it unwrapped. She gasped as she pulled out the blue hand-smocked dress she’d admired and wanted for Katie. “Oh, Alan.”

“It will look pretty on her.”

“But …” Maureen felt unreality close about her once more. She didn’t understand this man. “Why?” she asked, searching his face for some clue.

Alan shrugged again and looked away. “I thought Katie would like it.”

Maureen kept her eyes on him, willing him to turn back and look at her. When he did, he reached over and touched her cheek. “You were right. I was a little hard on Joey today.”

Her heart melted. She thought of what Rita had told her about Alan’s father this afternoon, and she suddenly felt she understood the forces that drove him. At least a little. She wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. There was this major obstacle between them, their way of looking at right or wrong. Alan saw things as black or white, she in shades of gray. Maybe in another time and place, they could ignore it, but under the circumstances, that was impossible.

“Thanks,” she said. And then because she needed to say something else, she added, “Katie will love it.” She turned away, letting the hushed sounds of the park surround them.

“The band’s about ready to start,” he said, his voice as quiet as those around him.

“This town is like … something out of the past,” she said, conveying the sense of unreality she’d felt all day.

“There aren’t many places like Wyattville left in the world.”

“It’s like being in another time.”

“Sometimes it seems a bit unreal. But not to them.” Alan gestured toward the others. “This is all they know. This is their reality.”

“It’s not a bad reality.”

“No, it’s not.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. “That’s why I’m still here.”

She turned to look at him, and he smiled, a soft, gentle smile—a smile that tore at her heart and sent a surge of longing through her.

Who was this man? What was he? Not even David had affected her the way Alan did. He was a bundle of contradictions, and she felt both drawn to and threatened by him at the same time. Stronger and more arrogant than any man she’d ever known, he possessed all the traits she usually detested in a man. Yet he loved children and traditions and his hometown. He brought her gifts for her daughter. And he made her want him in a way she’d never wanted a man before.

The band started slowly, pulling her thoughts back to the moment. They played old, soft music that must have brought back memories to some. A waltz, a love song … then, as the crowd on the grass stirred to life, the music grew livelier.

“Come on,” Alan said, taking her hand. “Let’s dance.”

Maureen automatically shook her head. “No, I don’t—”

“You don’t dance?” He was on his feet now, drawing her up next to him.

“Well, yes, but …”

“Then come on.” He didn’t give her another chance to protest but started walking, still holding on to her hand.

Maureen threw Rita and Katie one quick glance before Alan hustled her toward the bandstand.

Then she was in his arms, and all other thought ceased. He pulled her close, and she felt the long, lean lines of his body pressed against hers. For a moment, they didn’t move, and Maureen felt the threads of her restraint slip. Then Alan’s feet began to move with the music, and she followed.

She was a wonderful dancer, Alan thought. Light and airy, her movements seemed to come to her as naturally as breathing. She followed him faultlessly, not missing a step or nuance in movement. Then there was the feel of her, the underlying strength beneath the sheer femininity. She fitted him perfectly.

He sought her eyes and felt the rest of the world drift away. He could see her struggle at first, like a small animal caught in a trap. She fought him. No. She fought herself. But his patience was gone, and he had no intentions of letting her escape.

He knew the instant she gave up the fight, the moment she recognized the futility of denying how right this was, how perfect they would be together. At once, everything grew easier. And harder. They danced, first fast, then slow, until there was nothing but the two of them.

When he could no longer stand the feel of her without having something more, he guided her off the dance floor. Without a word, he steered her into the woods and toward the river. She followed him willingly, silently.

Once under the canopy of trees, it took all his willpower to keep from pulling her into the bushes and down onto the forest floor. But he kept going until they came to the river. Then he picked his way among the rocks until he found the path leading to a spot he knew.

A few minutes later, they stood on an outcrop of rock above the river, a wall of ragged stone at their back. Below them, the water sparkled in the moonlight as it wound its way toward the Pacific.

“It’s lovely,” she said, without taking her eyes off the scene below. “You always find the most beautiful places.”

Alan studied her face, thinking the beauty of the silvery river below was nothing compared to her skin. He touched her cheek. She didn’t look at him, but he saw the slight flutter of her eyelashes.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, lifting her hair so he could brush a kiss along the smooth surface of her neck.

Maureen trembled at the feel of his lips, knowing she should stop him, yet wanting him to continue. He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close, pressing her head to the side as he continued his sensual exploration of her throat and neck. For the briefest of seconds, she considered stepping out of his arms. Then the thought fled as his fingers grazed the underside of her breast. With a moan, she gripped his arm, loving the feel of his strong muscles beneath her fingers.

“I want you,” he whispered.

She didn’t answer, couldn’t, but turned into his embrace, slipping her arms to his shoulders while he worked his magic along the edges of her collarbone. He held her tight against his hips, his hands spread wide around her waist. And everywhere he touched, with his hands, with his mouth, with the hardness of his body, the heat nearly burned her.